


An Unconventional Meeting

by Anonymous



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Desk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Office Sex, Unrepentant Siphos bc that ship does Not get enough appreciation, this is just really self indulgent tat my dudes, with passing mentions of Sjin my other best boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 18:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15006770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After two weeks away on a shareholder retreat, Sips returns to business - and his top competitor - with rather less decency than he affords most typical meetings. Not that Lewis minds, of course.





	An Unconventional Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Thing I threw together in like, a day, for an au my gf has brain-child-ed. We're both useless long distance gays who project onto fictional characters, and that's that on that, enjoy shitlords <3
> 
> Also, bc names are Dumb, Xephos is his surname. This is in no way RPF bc that's just Weird, these are the good good minecraft boys through and through. Also he has glasses in this au bc it takes place in the 80s and yes, ofc, they had contact lenses, but Xeph is a bit of a hipster bitch so yeah, not elbow-nudging to irl pre-glow up LewLew, just a world building thang lol

The intercom at Lewis’s elbow crackles to life, its introductory static succeeded by the timid whisper of his secretary’s voice.

 

“Mr. Lovasz is here to see you, sir.”

 

The announcement greatly surprises him, given the fact Sips was not to return from his trip for another three days yet - some retreat he’d devised to shmooze the latest crop of investors. It delights him, as well, because he has sorely missed their meetings, and he answers his secretary with a most pleasant anticipation.

 

“Thank you, Dana. Please send him in.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

In the several, fluttering seconds that transpire, Lewis hastily adjusts his glasses, his tie, tugs the lapels of his suit jacket, and, finally, assumes a very much put on posture with which to greet his competitor - hands laced lazily on the desktop, endearing smirk tugging the left corner of his lips, shoulders just squared enough to delineate their musculature while drawing attention rather more downward. Always a game, this, and he knows how to play his hand.

 

He also knows exactly how to fold to Sips’ inevitable prowess, although whether he intends to string Lewis along like the godawful tease he is or immediately shove him over the desk will surely make this an interesting play. And after nearly two weeks, Lewis rather hopes it is the latter.

 

All the same, Sips fills the room with an unshakeable air of aloof confidence, offering a cheesy “Thanks, sweetheart.” to Dana over his shoulder as he saunters into the office, altogether inscrutable until he kicks the door closed and lets spread across his already wicked smile a veritable leer.

 

“Lookin’ good, Silk Shirt,” he says.

 

“And yourself,” Lewis answers with a tasteful laugh, though there is truth to it.

 

The retreat must have been somewhere tropical as Sips sports a rather dashing tan, every ounce of gold embellishment about his person standing in relief. A negligible rush of shame results of Lewis immediately aching to taste every inch of warmed skin, and he expends little effort in quelling the prickling flush that spreads across his nose.

 

“Turks and Caicos,” Sips says. “Tropical storm heading in though, so we had’ta cut it short. Not like those bastards didn’t have everything handed to 'em on a silver platter.”

 

“Mhm,” Lewis hums as Sips approaches. “And I presume you made a pretty penny?”

 

“Oh, ya’know,” Sips braces his palms on the edge of the desk and leans forward. “Enough to see Sipsco through the next century. Or ten.”

 

“Have they any interest in scientific endeavors?”

 

“Buncha twats, Lewis. Pitch your latest death ray or whatever and you’ll have em eating outta your hand.”

 

“You offering a lead?”

 

“Oh no,” Sips laughs. “These’re mine. Go find your own cash cows.”

 

“Fair enough,” Lewis concedes, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms against his chest. “Can’t promise I won’t ferret them out the next shareholder’s ball, though.”

 

“Too long since our last friendly competition?”

 

Delicious heat pulls Lewis’s stomach to the ground, creeps steady and slow beneath his collar, up his neck, and poises at his drying mouth a telling grin.

 

“Ages,” he answers, his bluff revealed. Certainly he’s better at this, but presently it has been _ages_ , and, really, what’s the harm in losing just this once?

 

Sips laughs, quick and cool and dangerous.

 

“Yeah,” he says. “Guess it has,” and, sans further pretense, reaches forward, grasps Lewis by the collar, and hauls him forward into a heavy, hungry kiss.

 

“Nn- _fuck_ ,” Lewis groans, gasping into Sips’ mouth as the pain of his hips forced against the desk’s edge amalgamates with bursts and sparks of pleasure teased to life by Sips’ tongue and teeth.

 

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Sips patronizes Lewis’s withering glare when they part for air, toys his fingers at Lewis’s tie and pulls it loose. With an unceremonious flourish, he tosses it aside and sets to work freeing the buttons of Lewis’s shirt. “It’s no fun if you’re gonna be a big baby about it.”

 

“I reserve my right to petulance,” Lewis says, but promptly falters with a strangled gasp as Sips yanks him closer to gain access of his throat, sucking a vicious bruise at his exposed collarbone.

 

“And I reserve my right to make you into a wreck,” Sips counters, laving kisses up his neck, administering alternate licks and nips until he’s traversed his way behind Lewis’s ear.

 

“If you’re up for that,” he adds, and the delicate whisper is such an unfair advantage, especially _there_.

 

“ _Christ…_ ” is all Lewis can offer, fingers grasping for purchase at the front of Sips’ immaculate suit.

 

“Take that as a yes,” Sips says, and works his tongue along the shell of Lewis’s ear, grazes his teeth, all the while dutifully undoing the buttons of his shirt.

 

“Ah- _hahn, S-Sips_ ,” Lewis whimpers, a lance of pleasure suffusing through his chest as Sips rakes a thumbnail over his left nipple.

 

“Mm, fucking _missed_ this lemme tell you.”

 

“Sjin n-not go with you?”

 

“Nah, fucked his brains out last night, though. You wouldn’t be _lieve_ what he’s capable of after two weeks alone.”

 

“How considerate.”

 

“Hey,” Sips leans back and levels a firm stare. “He’s more than okay with us on the side, so he gets first dibs, alright?”

 

“Not quite what I meant,” Lewis says, doing rather a poor job of containing his impatience. “But good to know. Again.”

 

“Well what _did_ you mean?” Sips huffs, his languid grin returning in full.

 

“Just that it’s very sweet how you indulge him.”

 

“Uh-huh, and what’s that mean I do for you?”

 

“I believe the phrase was ‘wreck me’,” Lewis muses, draping his arms around Sips’ shoulders. “Or something to that extent.”

 

“Something like that,” Sips says, his own hands wandering to Lewis’s waist. “But I’ve also been talking to the world’s biggest assholes for two weeks straight, so if we could cut the chit-chat, I’d really appreciate it.”

 

“Oh sure,” Lewis nods and brushes back a few errant hairs that have fallen out of place of Sips’ cowlick. “Whatever you want.”

 

Sips raises a challenging eyebrow at that -

 

“Whatever I want, huh?”

 

\- and, seizing Lewis by the hips, lifts him bodily onto the desk.

 

“Then I think I wanna fuck your brains out, too.”

 

Whatever upper hand Lewis had is useless now. Nothing quite compares to being tossed about, and Sips knows this all too well - constantly uses it to his damned advantage.

 

“But also,” and here Sips reaches up, runs his thumb beneath Lewis’s mouth. “Think I want ya on your knees for a bit.”

 

The demand needn’t be repeated, and - as a torrid shudder wracks his nerves - Lewis kicks his legs over the desk, slides down off it, and drops to the floor, all the while keeping eye contact with Sips.

 

“Someone’s eager,” Sips comments, stroking Lewis’s cheek with the back of his hand before removing his glasses and setting them out of the way on the desk. His other disappears inside his suit jacket, emerging again with a condom pinched between his fingers.

 

The fact he’d come thusly prepared sends shuddering through Lewis a roiling wave of sweet, aching warmth, and he sets to work undoing Sips’s belt and fly with caution nearer to reverence. Sips, meanwhile, holds his gaze hostage, smirking as he takes the edge of the condom in his teeth and carefully tears it open.

 

“You good’ta go pretty rough?” He asks, fitting on the condom. “Or two weeks off made you soft.”

 

“Guess you’ll just have to find out,” Lewis retorts, and Sips barks out a laugh.

 

“Guess I will,” he says, words bordering on a growl, and, anchoring a fist into the hair at Lewis’s nape, Sips pries his jaw lax and thrusts in without ceremony.

 

A dangerous few seconds elapse where Lewis nearly gags, but he’s taken Sips enough times like this to accommodate his aggressions, and he quickly relaxes, lets his tongue slack, and Sips practically glides down his throat.

 

“ _Christ_ , Lewis, f- _fuck_ …”

 

The sensation alone exhilarates him, the rhythmic fullness, the fleeting fear that the next thrust may prove too much only to take it all so perfectly each time… And then the sounds, wet and thoroughly lewd in orchestral combination of Sips grunts and sighs and praises… To be used like this, it is a privilege, and Lewis is nothing if not grateful. And he well proves it.

 

“Fucking _hell_ ,” Sips groans after several prolonged moments, and Lewis gasps with him, his chest burning for proper air.

 

“You are one nasty sonuvabitch you know that?”

 

“Says the guy with his dick in my mouth,” Lewis counters hoarsely, working Sips slowly with his hand.

 

“Says the guy who _likes_ it.”

 

“Says the guy who _also_ likes it.”

 

“Hey, thats for special occasions, Silk Shirt.”

 

“Mhm,” Lewis says. “And I’m guessing this isn’t one of those, then?” He punctuates the sentiment with a deft flick of his thumb.

 

“Oh it is,” Sips replies, glaring down at him. “But I had other things in mind.”

 

With this, he stays Lewis’s hand, prompts him to his feet, and devours his smug smile in a long, messy kiss. Amidst the clash of tongues and keens, Sips’ palm presses between Lewis’s legs, forcing from him a hitched groan, and Sips smiles into his mouth.

 

“What’ya want me to do then, big guy.”

 

“I think you damn well know,” Lewis answers, leaning back against the desk and letting his legs fall open.

 

Sips fills the space with his knee, and Lewis shamelessly grinds on this thigh.

 

“Easy there, tiger.

 

“I have an appointment at two,” Lewis huffs. “So if you wouldn’t mind -”

 

“Yeah yeah, I get ya,” Sips says, and hoists him atop the desk. “Just a quickie then,” and hastens to relieve Lewis of his slacks.

 

“You got lube?”

 

“Top drawer, in the ba- _ack_!” Lewis bites off his breaths as Sips - having removed all necessary clothing - takes them together in hand. His movements, rough and hasty, overwhelm Lewis in an instant, and he falls against Sips’ chest, heaving for air.

 

“Don’t get too excited,” Sips murmurs, the cruelty of a laugh lurking behind his soothing tone.

 

“K-keep this up and you’ll only have yourself to blame,” Lewis retorts.

 

“Guess I better get on with it then, huh?”

 

With that, Sips lets go them both, strides round the desk, procures the lube, and resituates himself between Lewis’s legs.

 

“You’re abhorrent,” Lewis says, blushing deeply as Sips leans in for a gentler kiss.

 

“Don’t see ya complaining otherwise.”

 

“Just get _on_ with it. Appointment at two, remember?”

 

“Sure I do,” Sips says matter of factly, and there is the sound of the bottle’s cap popping open. “Just don’t really give a shit.”

 

The cold, slick touch of his fingers follows, stroking painfully light, and Lewis’s hips cant of their own desperate accord, his fingers curling to fists in Sips’ suit jacket.

 

“Christ,” Sips breathes. “Did you, like, not get off the whole time I was gone?”

 

“Just shut up and fuck me already,” Lewis groans.

 

With a small laugh, Sips rests a palm to his chest, and Lewis follows the pressure onto his elbows, the whole of him sprawled on display, every last ounce of shame gone to the flare across his nose and bared chest.

 

“You’re such a slut sometimes, you know that?” Sips derides, lifting Lewis’s left leg to rest on his shoulder and stroking himself to better coat the condom.

 

Lewis regrets their lack of additional protection - he does so enjoy the precision of Sips’ fingers inside him - but better safe than sorry, and he is far too impatient to request Sips go digging around his drawers for another condom.

 

“Move your leg a little,” Sips says, interrupting Lewis’s increasingly irrelevant thoughts, and he swiftly obeys, shifting his right leg, sighing as Sips pinions it there. A dull ache results of the preposterous angle, and Lewis comments on as much to dispel the embarrassment of being so exposed.

 

“Will have a limp to explain tomorrow,” he laughs.

 

“Mmmhm,” Sips hums, and presses against him. “Let’s hope so.”

 

And then _in_ , so very, _horribly_ slow, and the remaining shards of Lewis’s facade shatter completely, his back curling off the the desktop, a deep moan rumbling from his sore throat, every limb gone taut until Sips’ pelvis is flush against him.

 

“S’this good?” Sips asks, hushed and genuinely concerned. As he always is, damn him.

 

“Y-you’re fine,” Lewis stammers. “Please - please move.”

 

Sips obliges, setting a docile pace as he teases, “How you want it, big guy?”

 

“D-do you re-e _ally_ have to a-ask,” Lewis manages and sets his teeth like a trap against a volley of moans as Sips jerks _hard_ into him.

 

“Y-yes,” Lewis sighs, closing his eyes to savor each torturous sensation. “Tha- _at_.

 

A delicious grip between his legs accompanies the next thrust - Sips working alternate strokes to his hips - refusing Lewis reprieve of any sort, his every nerve alight with pleasure.

 

“You look so fuckin’ good like this,” Sips eventually pants, digging his nails into Lewis’s right thigh.

 

“C-could say the same to you,” Lewis responds, opening his eyes to enjoy the image of Sips hunching over him, shoulders rigid and jaw clenched, brow furrowed almost in concentration.

 

“Careful there, Silk Shirt,” he warns. “Might give me a big head.”

 

“Th-thought I already did,” Lewis gibes, and Sips glowers.

 

“You tryna ruin the moment?”

 

Lewis responds with a cheeky grin.

 

“Hm, well,” Sips moves in, bracketing his hands at either side of Lewis’s head and leans close. “If that’s how you’re gonna be,” and reaches over, and buzzes Dana through the intercom.

 

She answers with an exasperated, “Yes, sir?”, and before Lewis can register anything, Sips says, “Cancel Mr. Xephos’s next appointment. We’re gonna run a _bit_ long, sweetheart.”

 

He drives fully again into Lewis with a stifled grunt, and Dana gives a suffering sigh.

 

“Yes, sir, Mr. Lovasz.”

 

“Thanks, darling,” Sips says, and cuts the line.

 

Lewis stares daggers at him. “Do you know how important that meeting was?” He demands.

 

“Do you know hard I’m about t’fuck you?” Sips counters. “I mean, your secretary sure does, so you better either learn to shut up or own up, cuz either way she’s gonna know.”

 

“Incorrigible bastard,” Lewis accuses.

 

“There we go,” Sips praises. “I like it when you’re obstinate.”

 

“What’re you gonna do about it, then?”

 

“You got memory problems, Silk Shirt?”

 

Arching his hips, Lewis watches Sips clever sneer succumb around a groan, and a smile splits his own annoyed expression.

 

“Not at all,” he answers, a demure purr lacing round his tongue. “I just like to hear you say it.”

 

“And I like to hear you beg,” Sips growls, bowing his head and taking Lewis’s nipple between his teeth, effectively ruining every retort he might have attempted.

 

Sips is brutal in this, learned some time ago Lewis’s penchant for pain - nothing wholly masochistic, but it is so awfully incredible amidst the pleasure - and nothing renders him quiet so pliant, so utterly desperate. In no short amount of time, he is well indulging Sips’ own desires, his aching, stinging chest gasping moan after moan, his legs wrapped tight around Sip’s waist as are his arms thrown in similar disarray across his shoulders. Every point of contact, every wanton thrust into his body, every taste of tongue and fingers and skin is a symphony of the most salacious indecencies, and he devours it all.

 

And, steadily, it surmounts, a well of honeyed pleasure pooling and surging in crests and troughs of the sweetest agony until he can only articulate in helpless sobs, pleading for his release.

 

“I - _hah_ \- guess you’ve earned it, big guy,” Sips pants and, straightening again, takes Lewis in hand and strokes him as he rocks his hips forward.

 

“ _Ahh-hahhn_ fu- _uck_ ,” Lewis keens. “Yes, S-Sips, there please, _please_.”

 

He all but writhes, rolling his hips down to meet Sips’ movements, scraping his nails against the desktop, possessing just enough coherence not to cry aloud as finally, _finally_ climax seizes him.

 

“Fuckin’ _Christ_ , Lewis,” Sips groans and, pulling out roughly, discards the condom, hunches over Lewis’s prone, wrecked form, and strokes himself to completion, coming in warm streaks on Lewis’s chest and stomach, hissing incoherent curses that Lewis quiets with kisses.

 

“Fuck, I missed this,” he says when he’s found the breath for it.

 

“Like I said,” Sips replies, similarly strained. “Bit of a slut when you want to be.”

 

“Scuse me if I’m a bit nasty sometimes.”

 

“It’s _nasty_ when you want it on your face.”

 

“Or when you ruin another suit,” Lewis grumbles, noticing a stain on his right lapel.

 

“Shit, sorry about that.”

 

“No you’re not.”

 

Sips smirks and steals a kiss. “Nope, definitely not.”

 

Lewis sighs and smiles. “Me neither, big guy.”

 

“Hey,” Sips points an accusing finger. “Don’t get cute on me”

 

“Hmm…” Lewis stretches as languidly as he can make it appear, the desktop none too accommodating. “And what’re you gonna do about it?”

 

Sips raises an eyebrow and ventures his hand back down. Overstimulated, Lewis winces at his touch but weathers it for the promise of more.

 

“When’s your next appointment, Silk Shirt.”

 

“Hmm…” Lewis greatly exaggerates his expression before donning a seductive leer. “When do you want it to be?”

 

“Absolute nasty slut,” Sips sighs, but he’s grinning as Lewis pulls him into a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> def feel free to lemme know if you liked it, I'm kinda proud of my smut writing skills (even if they do jack shit for my writing career in the long run lmaooo)


End file.
